Free This is WAR by Lisa Roecker

she could remember, filled with more pie than anyone needed, roaring fires, and presents with
Lina
hand-written on tags as though she’d been part of the Liu family since birth. Sloane guarded Lina silently. Her rescues were never discussed. They just happened. Protect and be protected. So, yeah, she’d be damned if she was going to let some trashy event planner’s daughter mock Sloane. But as Lina opened her mouth to answer Sloane’s ridiculous question, Madge beat her to it.
    “No one’s stealing anything.” Even in her frenzied state Madge was careful to be patient with Sloane. “We’re just going to show the Captain that his grandsons are a couple of assholes undeserving of his precious inheritance. And hopefully reveal the fact that James is a cold-blooded murderer at the same time.”
    “Easier said than done,” Lina mumbled under her breath.
    Madge must not have heard her. Or she was just ignoring her. Either way she dragged Rose over to a pair of chairs situated near the wall and began whispering plans.
    Lina felt a quick stab of jealousy. She had always been the person Madge planned with. The idea girl. But ever since everything with Willa, things had changed. Madge was distant. Distracted. Lina tried not to be hurt. The girl’s stepsister had just died, after all. Madge had every right to retreat within herself, to mourn and hide in private. But as Lina watched Madge and Rose beneath her lowered lashes, she wondered ifperhaps she was being replaced. There was something about the way Rose kept touching the key around her neck that made Lina want to scream. Why couldn’t anyone else see that this girl couldn’t be trusted?
    “Lina, Lina, ballerina why so quiet?” Sloane plopped down on the couch and knocked the bottle of blue polish over, splattering it across Lina’s legs and the hem of her shift dress.
    “Jesus!” The word was out of Lina’s mouth before she could bite it back. She shot up from the couch and started dabbing at the blue streaks of paint with a discarded beach towel. Lina couldn’t have given two shits about the dress. She had dozens more just like it in her closet, but the muddy blue mess at the end of her fingertips burst a delicate bubble of rage inside her. Her nails were always perfect. Well, they were since Willa died, anyway. Lina remembered when she and Willa stayed up all night trying to create the perfect ombre manicure. Willa had found some article online with step-by-step instructions. But they’d kept bumping their nails against the coffee table or accidentally smudging them when reaching into the big white bowl that sat between them for a handful of popcorn. Madge had made fun of them for walking around with salt smudged nails the next day, but they laughed and said it only added to the effect. If Willa were there she would have already convinced Lina that the nail polish splattered across her dress and over the tips of her fingers was a fashion statement.
    But Willa was dead.
    Tears sprang to Lina’s eyes.
    “I’m sorry … I just … I need some air.” She backed out of the room and rushed down the stairway, hurtling into the parlor, not caring if anyone saw—then out the French doors to one of the Club’s massive patios. She bent over as though she’d be sick.
    “Hey, are you okay?”
    The voice came from a shadowed stoop in front of one of the side doors. Lina squinted through the darkness but could only make out the red tip of a cigarette and a long pair of legs, crossed at the ankles. But then the girl leaned forward, catching the light, and Lina recognized her wavy hair immediately.
Mari
. The waitress who was supposedly involved with Trip Gregory. Lina hadn’t seen her around the Club since the Fourth. She had heard she’d been fired … which was fine by her.
    “I’m fine,” Lina said. “Leave me alone.” She turned to go back inside. It wasn’t the first time this girl had stumbled upon Lina, and there was no way she was up for a